


Liar

by impish_nature



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: As they often do, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, things go awry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: Prompt: "If I die, I'm never speaking to you again."Words said in jest don't usually have such dire implications.But then again, The Constant always did have a way of turning things against you.





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: In game style violence, nothing graphic, some blood/wounds etc.

It was all Wilson's fault, he was sure of it.

It had to be. It always was.

Maxwell huffed, his lungs burning with exertion as he tried not to stumble across the uneven ground, kicking up dust and rubble with every stride.

And if it wasn't, well then, he'd just have to come up with a way to blame him for it.

Sure, it _had_ been his idea to leave camp on an expedition for more food. But he had expected to go alone, it wasn't like he'd forced the other to come with him. And really, was it too much to ask that he at least be allowed to lead said exploration into the wilderness? Even if it had ultimately gotten them a little bit more lost than he had anticipated. It wasn't like he'd _asked _to be followed, he couldn't be blamed for that.

And maybe- just maybe- he had forgotten exactly what day it was as well. But still! So had his companion, so really, that was on both of them. 

Not that either of them had really felt up to blaming the other when they were running full force down cobbled paths, loud puffs of air panting out of them that couldn't quite cover the baying sounds of the ever chasing hounds.

It had taken a while to lose them. Even longer still to recover from all the activity and check themselves over. But soon enough the call to find food spurred them back onto their quest, the sinking sun elongating and morphing their shadows as if to remind them that time was a limited commodity, one that would be their downfall long before anything else if they were not more careful in the future.

It had been then that he had seen it.

It wasn't much, but anything was better than nothing at the moment. 

A large nest. One singular large egg resting at it's centre. There were no creatures in sight, just themselves and the craggy rocks and a thorny nest filled with food ripe for the taking.

Wilson disagreed, harsh whispered warnings making his eyes roll and his tongue sharp. 

It was food. They needed it. 

It was worth the risk. 

Besides, who was there to stop them? 

See? It really was Wilson's fault. If he hadn't stalled him, if he'd just helped and they'd run, then maybe things would have turned out differently.

But convincing him took time, their bickering was louder than intended and all in all the world was never kind to those who waited.

Maxwell knew that more than anyone. This world praised those who took the risk, took the gamble. Took the power that was handed to them without hesitation. 

He wasn't quite sure that Wilson would agree with him.

Now wasn't the time to ask though, nor shirk the blame. The egg rested in the crook of his arm, snug against his chest as his companion ran beside him. The heavy patter of large talons crunched behind them, gaining with every stride, a high pitch cry ricocheting amongst the rocks just as it had the moment he had plucked the egg from the safety of its nest.

They were losing light fast, the last rays of the sunset illuminating their path only as much as it cast the jagged rocks in sharp relief, their shadows impenetrable and thick. 

And then Wilson vanished from his side.

If he had had any breath left he would have felt winded, wounded by the betrayal as without a word the other man darted off in a different direction, the taloned beast still clacking behind him, eyes locked on the egg beneath his arm. Of course, it made sense. It was only after him, after all, so why should the other stay? It wasn't as if they were the best of friends, snide bickering remarks flowing far easier than anything resembling well meant or heartfelt comments.

Still, it stung to watch him flee, knowing that there was nothing to be done, other than to continue down the path he had made for himself.

The thoughts did not last long however, a bright spark of light flickered off to the side, grabbing his attention and pulling his feet in like a gravitational force. Light was safe, at least from the horror of the dark. Escaping the beast behind him only meant running into Charlie's deathly embrace. He stumbled without thought, the mere image of Charlie in his subconscious tugging him towards the light and away from her clutches. The creature behind him took a moment to re-orientate itself, shuffling after him as before, but the gap had widened, just enough to release some of the tension building in his chest like a ticking clock. 

He rounded the last rock, yelping at the sudden tug on his shirt sleeve that dragged him blindingly into the light.

Maxwell blinked wildly, squinting against the onslaught to find Wilson's scowling face staring back at him above a flickering torch. He pulled the egg from his grasp, laying it carefully down beneath their feet before replacing it with a crudely made spear, his hand forcefully pushing Maxwell's fingers around it. He nodded once, satisfied before relinquishing his grip to grab the axe resting against the rock beside them. 

Maxwell cast his eyes around, heart sinking at the jagged outcropping they had found themselves upon, the darkness sinking into crashing waves that seemed to bubble with laughter at their plight. They were cornered, trapped between certain death and an angry beast.

He sighed, gripping the spear more tightly as he span back to face the oncoming creature now fast approaching once more. 

"If I die, I'm never speaking to you again."

The words were muttered from the gloom behind him. He raised an eyebrow at his companion, a scathing expression on his face as the other seemed hellbent on conveying all of his irritated thoughts and feelings into one deadpan expression. 

He would admit, though only inwardly, that perhaps he deserved the lecture he would no doubt get once this was all said and done.

"That's quite a conundrum you've given me. Considering if you survive, I'll never hear the end of it and kill you myself."

Wilson snorted, an exasperated click of laughter that he couldn't quite suppress, and one that Maxwell knew meant there was no real harm done between them from the days endeavours. "Just shut up and fight the thing you brought down on us."

Maxwell grinned, a grim satisfied expression before all thoughts of mockery slipped back beneath a veneer of peril, the situation taking precedence against all else. He raised his spear and struck, feeling more than seeing as Wilson slipped away once more, rounding the rock they were using to keep some distance between them and their adversary. 

The creature gave a sharp, pained cry, spinning for a moment to lash out before focusing back on Maxwell once more. He struck out again, dancing back, glad that the beast seemed hellbent on him most of the time. It meant he could keep his thoughts on his protection and leave the other to his own devices.

The torchlight danced amongst them, flickering up shapes that made them flinch and lash out or catch sight of the true creature a second too late. It was a hard battle, one made harder still by the aches of the arduous day and the pangs of hunger that had numbed to a constant dull pulse, running feeble strings of adrenaline through heavy, shaking arms and wobbling, flimsy legs. 

The moon had risen to it's apex when the beast gave one final cry and fell, the silence it left behind only serving to accentuate how hard his heart was beating against his ribs.

"We did it." The words came out more as air than sound, his breathing painful and sharp against the lining of his throat. He knew his jacket was torn open, even with the tight band constricting his airways, a wet coating of blood sticking what was left of his shirt to his skin uncomfortably. He guessed he should at least be happy that the pain of the gashes had yet to sink into his nerves, giving him these few numb moments to assess the situation critically. 

Maxwell coughed, straightening up as best he could, the spear dropping to his feet as he groaned in relief. "See? What did I tell you? All- all worth it." 

The silence of the night answered him, the moon casting it's light upon him, and only him as if it was watching him, judging him for his actions.

He swallowed, a sudden cold setting in as his acquaintance didn't appear from behind the rocks where he had danced in and out of sight before. Where was he to snarl at him? To bicker and yell and point out how differently things could have gone? Where was he to tut and check over his wounds even whilst acting as if he deserved every single one of them for his foolhardy nature? To remind him he was no longer a king and the world wasn't his to play with as it had once been?

Instead the silence stretched, and there was no light to gravitate towards, just the thick, inpenetrable darkness where old friends lay and may have now become uncomfortably acquainted.

His mouth went dry, the darkness creeping in as every second passed, a suffocating closeness that muffled everything but the dread in his chest. He pulled the torch up from where Wilson had planted it, raising it high above his head.

"Higgsbury?"

~~~

The smell of cooking meat roused him from sleep, his stomach growling fervently in response. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinting open reluctantly even whilst his body rejoiced at the pervading sounds of spitting fat and crackling logs. 

The dark night sky entered his vision, his upper body covered by a torn jacket that his fingers flitted along slowly. It was taking a moment for his brain to get in gear, the days events escaping him as his senses seemed to come online one by one. The feeling of warmth and light settled his nerves and brushed away his confusion. Perhaps the lingering taste of adrenaline was merely from an already forgotten nightmare, whisked away by reality's warm embrace.

He closed his eyes again, breathing heavily for a moment as his body relaxed, fingers continuing their meandering path. It wasn't until they came to a cold, sticky substance that his mind stuttered to a halt. His hands continued, finding frayed edges and ripped threads in amongst the liquid sticking to his fingers and just as quickly as the world had gone dark earlier, the memories flooded back.

Wilson jolted up, body lurching in a wave of panic as his eyes darted around him. They were still on the craggy outcropping, though a campfire had now been built at it's centre and the creature from before was nowhere in sight. His eyes landed on his companion, checking him over with concern without intention, though the other was still staring intently into the fire, his back to him, as if he hadn't realised he was awake yet.

"Maxwell." The word came out more as a sigh of relief than anything else. He saw the other's back tighten, his shoulders shifting slightly forward though he made no other move that he had heard him. The words poured out then, his mind still struggling to figure everything out. "What happened? Why was I asleep- did it knock me out? I don't really remember much- do we still have the egg or did it take it back and leave? No, that can't be it, they're not likely to just leave us be-"

A dark, irritated sigh cut of his tirade of questions. "Pity."

Wilson blinked, his trail of thoughts cut short and lost beneath an abrupt fog of perplexity. "I'm sorry. Wha-what was that?"

Maxwell shuffled ever so slightly, his head turning towards him, though cast in shadow against the fire before him. 

"I said, pity." He prodded languidly at the fire, the sound of sizzling meat enticing Wilson momentarily away from the conversation. "You said if you died, you wouldn't speak to me again."

It took a few moments for the words to permeate through Wilson's skull. He swallowed, tongue feeling useless and thick inside his mouth. The words had been meant in jest, a teasing irritation to convey how angry he had been at the trouble Maxwell had gotten them into. He supposed he should be angry still, but all he felt was cold. Cold and tired as the sinking pain of death slipped through his bones, a strangely familiar dull ice that slunk through his body like an unwelcome guest that had visited more than once before.

But soon enough, his mind supplied him with more questions. Evaluate and observe, that's how it worked. And right now there was a puzzle to be completed. 

The exhausted pain was familiar, that much was certain, what wasn't familiar however was it being accompanied by knowledge. He still knew where he was, still knew how to survive and who sat across from him. Even the fact that the man was still sat across from him was a miracle in itself. 

Death was not permanent here, but by no means was it left unpunished.

So Wilson observed, thoughtful and silent, running through the possibilities in his head. As he did, he noticed the quiet seemed to get to his companion. Maxwell's hands shook as he continued his work, his head once more turned back to his task though he kept slipping glances at him as if to check on him, though he was sure he'd never get him to admit it.

His eyes trailed across him, taking in details that he hadn't yet. His white shirt was torn asunder, gouged skin peeking through the blood-soaked garment though he appeared not to have done anything about it. There was a layer of cobwebs sticking to his hair like fine gossamer, unnoticed by the other by the looks of how tousled he appeared in general. It was odd, to see him so rankled, so- unkempt. Even after their run in with the hounds, his first motion had been to straighten his tie and dust himself off. To think that something else had presented itself as far more important seemed so... out of character.

He still didn't say anything though, watching as Maxwell's eyes darted once more to his before making himself busy again. His eyes followed the movement, a fleeting glance over his arms to his shaking hands that tightened their grip periodically on the stick he was prodding the fire with. It was there he paused once more, taking note of a reddish gleam in the firelight, a coating of dried flakes that seemed to suffuse the others skin. It was almost like rust, coating the skin in a fine dust.

He knew what it was more likely though. But it wasn't quite adding up.

He hadn't tended to his wounds, so why were his hands covered in drying blood?

He felt along his own chest, and across his head, but there were no bandages, no semblance of a notion that the other had tended to him instead. 

So then, that meant- unless.

_Unless_-

_Oh_.

Wilson's hand caught on his chest, his steady heartbeat pulsing through in an almost unfamiliar rhythm.

Like it hadn't always been his, or perhaps was no longer was his entirely.

He wanted to ask. Wanted to know. It was just in his nature. How long had it taken? They hadn't had the supplies. Had Maxwell gone off into the darkness to search for materials? Had he dragged himself away already injured by their fight to make sure he got him back on his feet? He couldn't quite believe it, after all Maxwell looked out for himself first and foremost. To put himself on the line- to possibly get himself killed to bring him back? That was unthinkable. 

Yet here they were. Both of them alive when they really shouldn't be.

And his companion adamantly feigning ignorant nonchalance at the entire debacle.

Perhaps it was best to leave these things unsaid.

"Liar."

The word escaped him without much thought, his observations locked inside his mind, safe in the knowledge that he knew what had happened without asking for answers from a man who would never admit to them.

He just had to draw his own conclusions, and let Maxwell stew in the knowledge that he was _known_.

Maxwell frowned, his mask slipping into utter confusion as his eyebrows furrowed. "I can assure you that you did. Did you hit your head that hard, Higgsbury?"

"No, not that." Wilson huffed, shaking his head. "You're a liar for saying it was a pity I wasn't keeping to my word. If you wanted silence you would have left me for dead."

There was silence as they stared each other down, Wilson's mouth tweaking into a smug grin as Maxwell's face warred with itself.

"Yes- well-" He sniffed, turning completely away from him. "Maybe I should have."

Wilson chirped, voice far too loud and happy for someone who had just been resurrected. "_Liar_."

Maxwell glared into the fire, voice gruff as he coughed, clearly embarrassed but trying for aloof. "Don't just give away magician's secrets like that. They're tricks of the trade, you know."

Wilson let out a puff of laughter, pulling himself up to stumble over to the other. He ignored the other shuffling away slightly, plopping himself beside him and leaning against his shoulder with minimal fuss or fanfare, and pretending more than anything that the heat in his cheeks was from the sudden proximity of the fire.

"Well, I guess you can't trick me anymore then." 

"Don't flatter yourself, _Higgsbury_."

"Whatever you say,_ Carter_."


End file.
